


The Queen's Guard

by Cosmic_Biscuit



Series: All the King's Men [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drama, Family, Fluff, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Politics, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmic_Biscuit/pseuds/Cosmic_Biscuit
Summary: When Coran was hired on, the intent was that he would guard the royal couple equally. But politics, social ill will, and Alfor's protective nature meant that more often than not, it was the new Crown Princess' back he was watching. And thus a friendship was born. (Set in the early timeline of Mission Logs.)





	1. First Day

“You’ll be sharing an office with Illyere to better watch her back,” Alfor had told him.

“Feel free to decorate how you like,” Illyere had added.

So once he’d finished moving what possessions he had into his new rooms, he’d gathered up a few things into a box and carried them down the hall to the door the passkey in his coat pocket opened. 

There were voices already behind the door when he arrived.

One he recognized as Illyere’s, but the male voice was unfamiliar. Ever cautious, he leaned to the left, setting the box out of the way so he’d have his hands free and his pistol side unhindered as he slid the passkey into the control-

-only to let his breath out in a slow exhale of relief when he saw it was only one of the governors. The older man barely spared him a passing glance as he scooped up the box and entered-

-apparently too busy harassing his new charge, Coran realized with more than a little distaste.

“-then do you simply not _understand_ the importance of securing the royal family bloodline?” the governor asked, the sneer evident in his voice, though his expression was placid. “I suppose with the elements that have been allowed to pollute _yours-”_

 _“Enough,”_ Illyere said, and though her voice was calm, her eyes were glowing bright and her teeth seemed sharper than usual, reminding him of that time in the training halls. “Alfor and I will bear when we bear, and we will be bullied into it no sooner! Coran, would you kindly see Governor Apran out?”

“My pleasure, your highness,” Coran replied all too brightly with a cold smile as he set his box on his new desk, reaching out to take hold of the man’s arm.

Apran shook him off with an insulted huff and bustled out, and he wasn’t at all sorry to see the old lout go. Especially not after he turned back around to find the crown princess with her head buried in her hands. “Your highness?”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Coran stared. “ _You’re_ sorry?” he asked incredulously. “If anybody should be apologizing, that… that _partkan_ should-”

At a muffled sniff, he hesitated in thought, then pulled his chair over to sit next to her and dug into his box, pulling out a small urimirna chimer and starting to thumb out an aimless tune. 

She raised her head with a mystified look at the noise, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “What on Thuili is _that?_ ”

“Interesting, isn’t it? One of my old warband mates gave it to me as a souvenir when our tour of duty was over.”

“Can you actually _play_ it, or does it just make that noise?” she asked, nose wrinkled rather adorably.

“I’m no genius, but I do know a few tunes. Want to hear?” He gave her his biggest, goofiest grin, and was gratified when she gave him a small, hesitant one in response.

“Yes, please.”

— 

He was on his third round of “The Signal Lights of Alpalmali” -and had actually made it up to the proper speed this time- when Alfor came in from the office’s back entrance. 

“Well, you two seem to be getting along swimmingly,” he said with a smile, neatly scooping Illyere out of her chair to steal her seat.

She stuck her tongue out at her husband from her new perch in his lap, and Coran bit the inside of his cheek to hide a smile, starting to put away the chimer, when Illyere stopped him with a gentle hand on his. “Not yet, please?” she asked. “Alfor hasn’t gotten to hear.”

Coran felt the tips of his ears warm just a little. “I guess I could manage just one more round of Alpalmali.”


	2. History Lesson

In the moments that pain wasn’t electrifying every nerve in his face, it felt almost like air was whistling directly through his eye socket into his brain. He was vaguely aware of screaming all around him - _please don’t let any of it be the prince and princess, glories, please_ \- but he couldn’t concentrate enough to make out any words. The sounds of blaster fire and snarling had stopped, but that was small comfort.

A shadow blotted out the sunlight over him, and a voice was talking to him - _Illyere?_ \- and something moved in his field of vision. He clutched onto it, finding it was her hand, and slowly words floated up out of the mire of too much pain, too much noise, too much _everything_.

“-old _still,_ Coran, _please,_ or you’re going to lose that eye.”

Eye? Oh, that explained the air in his head. Choking in a stunned attempt to laugh at his own joke, he nonetheless tried to obey the order to lie still as she covered his damaged eye with her other hand in an apparent attempt to staunch the bleeding, and-

Oh?

_Oh._

He shivered at the sweet, dizzying rush of numb _relief_ that swept through his brain and flesh and blood and bone, calming hyperstimulated nerves and easing the pain all at once. Blinking with his good eye, he stared up at Illyere. Pink markings pulsed softly with light as she sat with her eyes closed, biting her lip those sharp teeth in concentration. 

“Did- did I know you could do this?” Coran asked, his voice a weak rasp, still half in shock from his own injuries and more than a little awed, and the princess made a little wheeze of laughter as she tried not to let her focus break.

“We’ll talk about it later, yeah? A little busy right now.”

—

He lightly ran his fingers over the new scars as he examined them in the mirror, then masked them away with a neat sweep of transformation power. As roguishly distinguished as they were, being the royal bodyguard required a certain level of pretend immortality, and one couldn’t be showing off any perceived weaknesses. 

His charges were waiting for him outside of the base’s infirmary wing, and he looked to Illyere cautiously first. “Is… would it be alright if…”

She nodded, giving Alfor’s hand a squeeze when her husband tilted his head questioningly. “He knows. You may speak freely.”

Coran coughed politely, then bowed. “Then I am most grateful, my esteemed lady, for your assistance in saving my life. If it’s not too much trouble, though, why didn’t you tell me before that you could heal? I would think that would be an important fact to know as your guard.”

The princess hesitated, fidgeting with the wide sleeves of her dress as she was wont to do when uncomfortable, and Alfor wrapped a reassuring arm around his wife’s shoulders. “It was nothing against you personally," he said with a polite incline of his head. "The Mabarka have hidden their healing capabilities from outsiders for centuries now.”

Part of him wanted to push, but he held his tongue, not wanting to scare Illyere into silence when they were still in the early stages of making friends. Finally, she raised her head. “Did they ever teach you in military academy about the Quiipel System Wars?”

Coran rubbed at his chin in thought. “Ah, let me think. Last year of studies… Yes, I believe they did. First instance of a scientific group being prosecuted for war crimes concerning experimentation on sa... pients… oh, glories.” He stared at the princess. 

Illyere nodded. “The history texts don’t name us anymore, but the Mabarka were the subjects used. Because the Quiipel were trade partners of the Mabarka, elders sent healers to assist with taking care of their soldiers. Chemist Yifaal and her group decided that we would be better used for the cause broken down to a serum that could be distributed to hundreds at a time than as living assistance that could help dozens.”

“And because they were so hideously taken advantage of and abused, the Mabarka decided no more outsiders would know of their talents,” Coran said. when Illyere nodded again, he sat down heavily in the chair that Alfor had vacated, mulling it all over. Finally, he reached out and delicately took hold of the princess’ hand. “Then I am even more grateful that you found me worthy of receiving such a sacred gift,” he said, politely touching his forehead to her fingers. “And I will safeguard your secret as I safeguard your life.”

“Told you that you picked the right one,” Alfor said, and when Coran looked up, he saw his liege give his wife an affectionately teasing squeeze.

Illyere, for her part, was laughing a little as she elbowed her husband back, and was still smiling when she bent down and threw her arms around Coran's neck.

But Coran could feel the collar of his uniform beginning to get wet.

He hugged her tightly back.


	3. Not Taken

“I could have been an archaeologist, you know.”

Coran looked up from putting the core back into his blaster to find Illyere slumped onto the desk of the office their hosts had given them, her chin resting on a stack of blinking datapads as she stared dismally at a hologram of the Archival Tower back home. “Hm?”

“I was ninety-three credits into the advanced program when Uncle Mikcal ran offworld with some pretty girl, never to return, and _someone_ had to be pressganged into helping Father with the family trading business." She sighed in an overly dramatic gesture and turned her head slightly to a more comfortable position. "I could have been studying an ancient Morlan text or digging in ruins on Relpika Prime now, instead of having to salvage trade agreements with the Hopichelli after the governors threw their childish little _tantrum_ ,” she muttered.

One of the datapads under her head blinked more urgently, and she pulled it out of the stack and glanced at it before groaning and chucking it across the room hard enough that it bounced off the opposite wall. 

One of said governors, no doubt. Coran couldn’t blame her irritation, to be completely honest. It had taken a _lot_ of fast talking and concessions just to keep their hosts from _eating_ them after word of the stunt had arrived. 

And neither of them could be entirely sure that getting them eaten hadn’t been the _point,_ given the group who'd been responsible for causing the incident.

“Look on the bright side, your majesty,” he said as he clicked the core chamber closed, and Illyere regarded him with a flat look. “Now that we’ve survived, I’m sure they’re throwing dice at this very moment to choose who will have to greet you when you arrive home.”

That succeeded in earning a small snort, and she pushed herself to sit up before closing the hologram. “This is true. And I suppose I would regret never having met you or Alfor.”

“You only  _suppose_? I am _wounded_ , my lady.” He dramatically put his hand to his heart, then grinned when she only rested her cheek on her palm and stuck her tongue out at him. “I do have an idea, though, now that you’ve brought up the subject.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Coran slipped the blaster back into its holster at his hip and stood, offering his arm. “We have roughly a day and a half before talks resume, and this is supposedly a planetoid that never sleeps. What do you say we see what they have in the way of museums? Maybe they'll have some musty old archives they'd be willing to let a visiting queen explore.”

Illyere brightened and pushed away from the desk, accepting as she rose. “You _do_ know the way to a lady’s heart, sir.”


	4. Diplomatic Games

Coran followed close at Illyere’s side as U’Kiri, their Mabarka guide, happily chattered away at her about the architecture of the building they were in. He could have activated his translation band to follow along with the lecture, but it felt… _intrusive_ , somehow. 

This was part of Illyere’s family heritage. If _she_ wanted to share it with him later, _then_ he would be pleased to listen, he’d reasoned.

When another woman came up to interrupt, however, he did subtly fold his hands behind his back to click the band, unseen.

“My lady, if you and your retainer would join us, please, it’s time for the Bonding.”

“Bonding?” Coran asked, careful to sound curious, not suspicious. Though it was in the nature of a guard to be the latter, he didn’t want to be rude when their hosts had been nothing but welcoming so far.

The newcomer made a polite sort-of-bow. “The Kinswoman Queen,” she said, indicating Illyere, “-has graciously elected to join in the ceremony where the palace’s herd of Che’perra choose their masters.”

“Good luck with that,” U’Kiri muttered under her breath, getting a sharp glare from the other woman, but Illyere laughed, putting them both at ease.

That put Coran on alert, however. “Why would it be so hard?”

“They’re notoriously bad-tempered, and even more picky,” Illyere explained with a grin. “I’m mostly going just for show. It’ll look good for the diplomatic talks for me to be seen there.”

“All the same, I think I’ll be keeping an eye on things, if you don’t mind.”

—

Once he’d actually gotten a look at the beasts, he was even less thrilled about this prospect. A good seven pekans at the head, not counting the horn racks, and those _teeth-_ his eyes narrowed as the monsters stomped and snorted, hissing when people got too close. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s alright,” Illyere reassured him. “We’re not going in there. We just stand at the fence and let the herd meander as they like. They’ll ignore us for about a cycle, and we’re done. No harm, no foul.”

“Fine. Fair enough, I suppose,” Coran muttered, though he still kept the control to his particle shield at the ready if any of them looked like they might bite.

“The old mare’s in fine form this year,” a voice boomed behind them, and they both turned to find a tall Mabarka male. He noticed them, then grinned. “Pel’korra, house of Kim’channa. You’re Quu’kalla’s grandpip, aren’t you?”

Illyere smiled and accepted the hand tap he offered. “I am. Illyere, and this is my guard, Coran. Which one are you talking about?”

Pel’korra indicated a large beast that was snapping at a Mabarka male that had made a grab for her. “She’s claimed gold and limbs off many a fool that’s tried to tame her by force. This is her fifteenth year in the pen.” 

The big female left the Mabarka bleeding and wheeled around bringing her in view of Illyere and Coran. She glared at them both and snorted, then approached at a gallop. “ _Your majesty,_ ” Coran warned, starting to move in front of his queen-

And then the Che’perra stopped. She tossed her head, as if in challenge, but wouldn’t move any further.

“Huh. That’s new,” Pel’korra said.

The Che’perra stomped and pawed at the ground, growling and snorting, and Coran realized she was slowly inching her way towards the fence as she did so. But before he could figure out what her plan was, the sneaky beast suddenly _lunged,_ head darting over his shoulder _-_

-snatching Illyere’s tiara right out of her hair.

“Why you devious-!” 

Coran’s outrage was cut off when Illyere put a hand on his shoulder. Laughing along with their hosts, her tears of mirth were kind of infectious. And he had to admit, she _did_ look rather hilarious with her hair a wreck from the theft, pins dangling every which way.

A snort from above made them both look up, and they found the Che’perra had returned from her victory prance around the pen, tiara still in mouth. Before either could react, the beast dropped the drool-covered item back on Illyere’s head, prompting another round of laughter from their hosts and a look of aghast disgust from Coran.

“The old mare has chosen!” came a cry from somewhere in the crowd, and a cheer erupted. Attendants arrived to try and wrangle the Che’perra out of the pen, and Pel'korra clapped them both on the back in congratulations.

“Oh, no,” Coran said as he tried in vain to help a still-laughing Illyere clean herself up. “They can’t possibly mean that thing is going home wi-”

“I’m gonna call her Ku’kkri.”

“ _What?”_

Illyere was grinning through the mess of her hair. “As in the Mabarka saying ‘su me’theta pel’hhu ku’kkri’.”

Coran groaned. ‘’May you live in interesting times’. You’re going to be the death of me, Illy.”

“You’d be so bored without me,” she teased as U'Kiri appeared from the crowd, bearing a towel and cleansing oil.

"There is that," he admitted with a sigh. "But are we really taking it home?" he asked, nodding his thanks to their guide before beginning to scrub at her hair with the wet towel.

"She'll liven up the castle grounds."

"You're just hoping she'll bite someone you dislike."

"That, too." 


	5. Old Friends

_He’d noticed the flashing needles as he did his usual safety check, and couldn’t resist giving her a gentle teasing elbow as he slid into his seat next to his charge on the transport ship. “Taking up maternal pursuits so soon?”_

_Illyere grinned and elbowed him back. “Laugh it up, Red,” she said, sticking the stitching needle and beading needle into the cloth to keep them from being lost while she laid the thing she was working on down. “But I have to do **something** with my hands to keep from going stir-crazy, and it didn’t sound so bad when Berua suggested it.”_

_Coran raised an eyebrow. “Travelling never bothered you much before,” he noted. “Is there something Alfor or I should be concerned about?”_

_“Nothing but hormone flush,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m just… my brain feels **itchy** all the time. I think that’s the best way to describe it. I need to be **moving. Doing** things. Paperwork and meetings are even **more** of a nightmare than usual. And sparring’s out of the question. **So** …” she waved the bundle of sparkly fabric and beads._

_“Glories. I don’t remember it sounding so bad when Aunt Micelle described carrying the twins. But then… special circumstances for you, I suppose. What is that you’re making?” She made another adjustment with the needles so they wouldn’t fall out, then turned the creature right side out for him to get a better look. “Is… that some sort of bird?”_

_“A Vulluna Bird, to be exact. **Beautiful** creatures. I met them on their migration route between the planetoids of the Liliri and Nakrimek star systems during my studies.”_

_“They migrate between **star systems**? Oh, now you’re just pulling my leg.”_

_“I’m not! Magister Karielle had sent me to the ruins of the Bumeppa civilization on a planetoid in Liliri for my third dissertation-”_

—

He supposed he could be forgiven for standing slack-jawed as he stared at the screens in front of him. 

“They’re _real_ …”

Beside him, Allura was no less stunned as she breathed out the words, her hands clutching the control panel so tightly her fingers might just crinkle the metal. 

On screen, a black and electric green glittering bird the size of a transport ship was chasing the red lion down near the surface of the planet, shrieking its rage. Red had managed to wound one of its five eyes, but that had only seemed to anger the creature further and attract the ire of its kin, scattering the flock to attack the rest of the lions as well.

 _“Guys, we could seriously use some help out here!”_ Lance’s voice cracked over the comm, and that finally shook both Alteans out of their shocked silence.

“Right! Right… um…” Coran wracked his brain, trying to think back. What had Illyere told him about Vulluna Birds? What had been her stories?

They didn’t speak language… They spoke… They…

“I’ve got it! Allura, go get your doll!” The princess turned and stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “I know you still have it, and I’ve got a plan, just trust me!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do you remember your mother’s stories about the birds?”

“N…not… not very well,” Allura admitted uncomfortably, and Coran wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay. I can re-tell you some of them later. But right now, just follow my lead, alright?”

Allura sucked in a deep breath, then squared her shoulders and nodded before pulling away and bolting from the command room. When she returned a minute later, she was carrying a worn, but still well-cared for stuffed toy that was familiar to them both. 

“Right then. This is going to be very hard, but I need you to be strong for me, okay?” Coran said as he pulled up a detailed color holo of Illyere in the months just after she’d been married to Alfor and been declared Crown Princess. “We need you to look like your mother,” he said, changing himself to look like he had when he’d been hired as her guard.

“Oh… Oh, stars… Coran… Coran, I don’t think I _can_ -”

 _“/-riously, these things aren’t /-ting up! Shields! /-nything?!”_ Hunk’s voice pleaded.

 _“We have to /-lose enough to /-bine!”_ Shiro replied, sounding desperate.

_“Yeah, good luck with- /-most getting our /-ils bitten off!”_

Allura bit her lip hard, then squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she began to reform, starting with her skin and hair color. When she had finished, a copy of the holo standing in her place, she was shaking, and it wasn’t from the effort of the transformation. 

Coran took hold of her hands and squeezed reassuringly. “I’m alright,” she mumbled. “I _am_.” 

He knew she wasn’t. But they both knew there was no time. She let go of one hand so she could grab the stuffed Vulluna off the control console, but still clung to him with the other as they raced to the lifts.

—

Yellow and Red were in the worst trouble as they ran out onto the improvised battleground. The apparent leader of the flock had pinned down Red with its talons and was doing its damnedest to rip off her secondary cannon with its massive beak, and Yellow was hemmed in by three others that were battering away at her with their wings in a frenzy.

There were so many ways this could go wrong. The flock could be too young, too many generations removed to remember the Altean queen. They could be too enraged to give a damn. He and Allura could be running to their deaths. 

But they had to _try,_ or the Paladins and the Lions were done for. Pulling a flash capsule out of his pocket, he flung it in the direction of Red and her attacker.

The Vulluna released the cannon and reeled off of Red, screeching, when the brilliant flare blinded it. Circling above the half-disabled Lion as Keith struggled to get her back on her feet, it looked to be ready to attack again, when its head turned in their direction.

Then tilted.

It banked away from Red, and Allura and Coran held on to each other’s hands tighter, Allura clutching her stuffed toy to her chest as the gigantic bird flew in their direction. The wind generated by its approach whipped her skirts and hair, and it took everything they had to stand their ground as it landed, seeming to regard them critically.

“ _Princess!”_ Keith’s voice snapped over the comm.  _“What are you-”_

“Stand where you are!” Allura replied, her sharp tone ruined by the barest crack of fear as the Vulluna’s head lowered towards them. “That’s an order!”

The bird tilted its head again. “Rheen.”

Everything stopped. The fighting stopped. It felt like the air stopped. Maybe their breathing stopped.

And in his mind, and likely Allura’s too, Coran felt an image take form. 

An image of deep space, of planets and stars passing by at a rush. 

And a feeling.

A feeling… of… _time_. Of a long, _long_ , time _._ And of _disappointment_.

“Coran?”

“I think… I think it’s asking where you’ve been,” he said. “Or, rather, where _she’s_ been. Why she never visited.”

Allura swallowed, squeezing his hand. “How do I answer? I’m… I’m not her, I can’t-”

“It’s alright. I think I know how to explain who you are. Make yourself small, like when she… when she passed.” The shaking was there again. He had to resist the urge to just fold her in a tight hug then and there. “You can do it, sweetbug.”

A nod, an unsteady intake of breath, and the hand clutching his began to shrink. He kept a wary eye on the Vulluna, but aside from a ruffle of surprise, it merely continued to watch in interest to see what was going to happen. “Good. Now be you again while staying child-sized,” he said, crouching beside the tiny princess to support her.

“Rhweeen!” The bird trilled in shock at the change, and for a moment it looked like it might swing those powerful wings at them both. But then it paused. “Rheen.”

Another hum in their minds. 

An image unfolded. A nest. Illyere lay curled inside it, protectively cradling a large egg against her stomach as a bird would sit on one. And when it cracked open, a little princess Allura wriggled out of the shell pieces and snuggled against her mother.

Coran swallowed. “Good… This is good. Say yes to that somehow.”

Allura thought for a second, then threw her hands up in a cheering motion and held up her doll for the bird to see.

The Vulluna puffed itself up, closing its eyes. After seemingly pondering all this, raised its head and trilled a new note, and the rest of the flock suddenly abandoned the lions to approach in a flutter of sparkling feathery wings and curiosity.

Relief breathed out in a rush of air as he and Allura released the transformation magic and became themselves again, Allura hugging the doll tight, and Coran patted her on the back. Only then did he notice his eyes were wet and he wiped them with the heel of his palm as he straightened and helped her to her feet to face the flock.

 _“What’s going on?”_ Shiro asked over the comm, the lions beginning to get up from their onslaught.  _“Are they going to attack again?”_

“It looks like we’re on the same wavelength now,” Coran said as he watched the flock leader lower its head again to try and inspect the stuffed Vulluna Allura was carrying. “We found some translation help from the last Queen.”


	6. Sweet Secrets

“ _The Glories sing just for you, my dear,_  
_As you whisk across time and space._  
 _A melody for only you to hear_  
 _While the star winds twirl in place.”_

Coran poked his head into Illyere’s office and found his queen settled into one of the specially-made swisher chairs she’d had to order after Allura had ‘come out of her shell’. The baby had absolutely refused to be cuddled in a lap the way most Altean infants were, and only wanted to be nestled against her mother’s chest - “It’s the Mabarka in her,” Prichel had explained. “She needs Her Majesty’s heartbeat for reassurance.” - and so a different design of chair was required for the higher center of weight.

“I see you’ve surrendered Vulluna,” he said with a little smile when he noticed what Allura was clutching tightly as she snuggled in her mother’s arms and snored. 

Illyere paused in her song and looked up, shifting the baby to motion him in. “Alas, yes,” she said with an overly dramatic pout, then smiled back. “I’d been thinking about what you said.”

“What I said?” Coran asked with a raised eyebrow, taking his customary seat at the smaller desk beside hers. “I say a lot of things, so you’ll have to be more specific.”

She snorted, biting her tongue to keep from being loud enough to wake Allura. “Don’t _do_ that, I just got her to sleep,” she hissed, and he gave her an unrepentant grin. “I meant about not letting my situation keep her from being my child as well.” She began gently carding her claws through short spun-fluff soft curls. “She’s going to be getting the best of everything Altean. But there are things only _I_ can offer her, too. No full-blooded Altean will be able to teach her to heal if she has the gift, certainly. No one else will tell her about the Vulluna.” 

Coran leaned his cheek on his hand, a warmth blooming in his chest at how pleased- no, _happy_ she looked at the concept of having secrets to pass on to the sleeping infant princess. It was the first time he’d seen her look so comfortable since… well, since she’d gotten pregnant; there’d been so much physical and social stress involved with it all. “She’ll love every minute of it, I bet. Was that lullaby another one of your presents for her? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“Hm, yes and no. It’s Altean, but it’s _old_. Older than the Old Kingdom, even. Magister Bastilla thinks it may be from the First Civilization. It’s one of only seven songs we still have from that time. Heh-” she grinned and tapped the side of her head. “I memorized it for extra credit. No one else in the class even tried.”

“Carrying the secret, indeed! Is it too hush-hush for me to hear it?” he asked.

“Not at all, if you’re not worried about falling asleep during it,” she replied, grinning. He settled comfortably into his chair, folding his hands in his lap, and she turned her attention back to the babe she cuddled.

_“The silvery light beckons in the night  
The moons are calling you to play…” _


	7. Sleepytime

“Um.”

Coran looked over at Illyere, who’d more or less passed out in her chair, then stared into huge blue eyes. Allura stared back, then started to scrunch up her face.

Oh, sheraiz.

“No, no, don’t cry,” he wheedled in as soothing a voice he could manage, switching his hold to the chest cradle position Illyere normally used. “Mama's just got a little burnout and needs a nap, that’s all. You _like_ being with Uncle Coran, don’t you?”

Allura made a little whine, but curled chubby fingers tight in the collar of his uniform and roughly shoved her head under his chin. Crisis averted, he sighed and settled deeper into his chair, pushing back from his desk for some more space. Unfortunately, his wasn’t modified to lean back like the Queen’s swisher chair was, but he’d just have to make do. “There we go,” he murmured, patting Allura’s back. “We’ll just have ourselves a little sit, and-”

“Hnnnn!”

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Coran asked in alarm when Allura tugged on his collar urgently. “Are you hungry? Do you need a new nappy?” 

“Hn!”

 _“Yowch!”_ he yelped when tiny fingers reached up, found his lower lip, and yanked. _Hard._ Eyes watering, he held up the infant to find she’d screwed up her face angrily. “I don’t know what you want!”

She puffed out her cheeks and blew at him, and that didn’t particularly answer the question. Cautiously, he shifted his grasp and patted her bottom. No problem there. She wasn’t chewing on him, so maybe she wasn’t hungry… sleepy? He’d been holding her correctly for _that_ already, so why was she so-

Oh.

“Oh, sweetbug, I’m not a singer.”

“Hnn!”

He glanced to the snoozing Illyere in despair. No, _no,_ he wasn't going to wake her up just for  _that..._ “Alright, alright, _fine!_ If it’ll make you sleep,” he groused, settling the tiny princess back against his chest. Drat, how did that song of Illyere’s song go again…

_“The silvery light beckons in the night,  
The moons are calling you to play…”_

The melody was shaky, some of the words off-pitch. But it seemed to do the trick. Allura snuggled happily into his arms, warm breath puffing gently against his neck as she lulled into the rhythm of sleep.

And maybe, he decided as he cuddled his bundle of snoozing infant closer, he could stand to do this a little more often if Illyere needed him to.


	8. Blood Skills

Alfor made a faint groan and rubbed the back of his neck as the pair of them walked down the halls, and Coran more than understood his frustration. The meeting they had just exited had been needlessly tense the entire time, ninety per cent of it brought on by Governor Gerar’s demands and Governor Hurok’s hostility towards them. 

In fact, Coran suspected Hurok’s hair-trigger temper had been the entire reason he’d been called to his liege’s side for the first time in months.

“What do you say we join Her Majesty and little Allura in the gardens for a bit, Sire? Perhaps that will improve the day somewhat, hm?” Coran suggested, his tone light.

Alfor smiled at him, clearly grateful for anything that didn’t sound like politics. “Good plan.”

A short ride down the lifts and a winding journey through a maze of pimmi blossom bushes later, they found Illyere and Prichel settled among the juniberry flowers with Allura, a lunch of rulliya sandwiches and helyu sodas with them. “Afternoon, ladies,” Coran called cheerfully as they approached.

Illyere looked up from Allura’s attempts to chew on her fingers. “Uh-oh. Meeting was that much fun, was it?” she asked with a wry smile at the look on her husband’s face.

“Even better,” Alfor replied dryly, crouching down to give his wife a kiss and scruff his daughter’s hair. Allura giggled and promptly turned her attention to trying to chew on him instead, which he allowed with an indulgent smile he took a seat on the rock next to Illyere. “Frankly, I’m ready for today to be over.”

“Well, maybe we can fix that. Allura, want to show off for Papa and Uncle Coran?” The little princess squealed in glee and kicked her feet as she was tickled, then Illyere gently stood her in the grass among a small copse of dead flowers. Curious, Coran swiped a sandwich and sat down, leaning forward for a better look as Prichel folded up her knitting and did the same.

“Alright, sweetbug, just like I showed you,” Illyere crooned, wrapping an arm around Allura to support her better. "Ready? In, up, and grow!"

The girl scrunched her nose up before her little pink markings flared bright for just a moment.

Coran’s eyes went wide and he nearly dropped his sandwich as four of the dead flowers suddenly perked up, bright and healthy like the rest of the garden. Glancing at the king, he saw that Alfor looked similarly stunned. Prichel, on the other hand, was beaming, and Illyere was practically _glowing_ with pride as she cuddled Allura close and kissed the happily squealing princess on the cheek. 

“So proud of you, baby! Only passed your second decade and already on your way to mastering the plant test!” Illyere cooed. 

“A ba ba!” Allura crowed.

“Yes, go tell Papa!” 

Coran shook off his surprise as Allura crawled over to her father, and he leaned over to Prichel. “Is… is that normal?” 

“Quite a prodigy, she is,” Prichel replied as Alfor scooped Allura up to praise her. “Illyere took to it just as fast, but the other siblings didn’t. Most of the mixed blood don’t, and it’s harder to learn the weaker the blood. She’ll be something special, it seems.”

“Huh.” A slow grin crossed his face as he watched the parents, Illyere especially, smile and coo over their talented little girl. “So that settles it. She’s every inch her mother’s daughter as much as her father’s. That’s good.”

—

Coran swallowed, feeling a little pain in his chest as he watched the Balmera swell back to life, humming and singing with power it probably hadn’t felt in decades. Centuries, even.

He turned his head to watch the celebrating Balmerans as they crowded around Allura and the site of the ceremony, then folded his hands behind his back to hide that they were shaking.

His eyes hurt.

It was just dust, really.

“That’s good.”


	9. Protection

“This… is entirely unnecessary.”

Coran gave Illyere an incredulous look and subtly tightened the hold of the arm she was leaning on. “Far be it from me to impugn your ability to keep up with stuffy old diplomats, your majesty, but your fever is in the kurukets and you can barely see straight to walk. We are going back to the Arkannum and you’re going to get some rest until the Summit.”

“Hmf,” Illyere muttered grumpily, but conceded and rested her head against his shoulder. “I bet Consulate Batchruka gave this to me somehow. He has always held the Mabarka in contempt.”

“You’ll just have to find a way to sneeze on him,” Coran said sympathetically, patting her hand. But as she snorted an unladylike laugh in response, a glint from an above window caught his attention. “Hm. I don’t wish you alarm you, Illy, but I do believe we have company.”

“Of the spy sort or the lethal sort?”

“He’s got a sight.”

“Joy. And me like this.”

“Let me handle it this time. That’s what you pay me for,” he said, squeezing her hand, then used the grip to yank her behind him as he activated his particle shield. The blaster bolt burst against it in a splatter of energy, and the fight was on.

They’d practiced a dozen times what to do if she were too incapacitated to hold her own in a fight. Even sick and awkward on her feet, she moved in flow to stay out of his way and act fast. In no time at all, six assassins lay dead and he was helping her keep from toppling over as she laughed dizzily.

“Woulda been faster if I’d been healthy.”

“Ah, but we did so well anyway, didn’t we? And now  _you_ need to get to bed,” Coran said as he began tapping in the alert for a body cleanup on his allotted comm band.

“Alright, alright. Glories, you’re as bad as Prichel.”

“I could tell her you said that.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”


	10. Language

Neither of them knew where in sheraiz she’d heard it. 

They’d both been trying their damnedest to be careful, they really had.

And yet Prichel had come to their shared office, ashen and wide-eyed, and had asked Allura to tell her Mama and Uncle Coran what the name of her stuffed Vulluna bird was, and the world had dropped from under their feet.

And what was worse, she wouldn’t _stop_ saying it, happily squirming in Illyere’s arms as everything in the room was delightedly named with her brand new word.

“This is a disaster,” Coran quietly moaned, face in his hands as Prichel patted him on the back.

“It’s not a disaster _yet,”_ Illyere said as Allura tugged on the neck of her dress and gleefully proclaimed her a Quiznak for the third time in as many minutes. “It’ll be a _disaster_ when her father gets home and she calls him that in front of the entire Governor’s Counci- Sweetbug, _please,_ at _least_ come up for air.”

Allura responded by giggling.

“Maybe we can teach her something new?” Prichel suggested. “If the novelty wears off, she might stop saying it.”

“There’s a thought. Ask one of the gardeners if they’ve caught any rhiapips today. She likes those.”

“Yes’m.”

—

The long-eared little creature with its four wide eyes and big, fluffy spotted ruff peered out from the cage up at the grinning toddler, who clutched her toy in one arm and eagerly reached out for petting with the other chubby hand.

“Ah, ah,” Illyere chided. “What’s its name?”

“Quiznak!”

“No, dear. Rhiapip.”

“Nnn!”

“Don’t you make that face at me,” she chided, wrinkling her nose right back. “Rhee-ah-pip.”

“Queepip?”

Illyere sighed. “Good enough for now,” she murmured, and Allura beamed at finally getting to scratch the critter’s ears.

“Queepip! Queepip!”

“At least it worked,” Coran said from the other side of the table, resting his chin on his hands.

“We hope. I may just have ended up letting her have a pet in order to make sure the lesson sticks.”

“Well, as far as pets go, she could do a lot worse. Like a certain monster down in the castle stables,” he added with a grin.

“Hush.”


	11. Pets

“A- Allura…sweetbug… come away from the- Illy, stop laughing!”

“Fluffy!” the toddler princess crowed, happily snuggling even deeper into the neck ruff of the massive…  _thing_ that continued to eye him suspiciously and hiss if he got too close. And meanwhile, the queen continued to cackle from where he’d insisted she remain at the fence.

A decision he was beginning to regret.

“Now see here… Creature. Beastie.  _Whatever_  you are. She’s coming back with me.”

“ _Snrl.”_

“Oh, dear.”

He had  _not_ been expecting wings. And  _certainly_ not  _six_ of them. Alarmed, he reflexively brought up his shield-

-and hands caught him from behind before he could be blown off his feet. “Your maje-”

“Sorry for laughing at you, Red,” Illyere apologized. “I got this, if you’ll watch my back.” 

Coran set his jaw and nodded, keeping his shield at the ready as she moved past him, exuding charm and calm.

“Hi, darling. I’m afraid that’s  _my_ kit you’ve got there,” she cooed as she approached the creature, and Allura looked up from her new friend’s fur at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“Mama! I have a Fluffy!”

Illyere smiled and waved to her daughter. “I see that!” 

That seemed to be enough for the creature, who gave a short rumble before stretching out and lowering its head enough that the queen could reach up and pluck the toddler out of the mass of fluff and hair.

“Thank you, darling. I’ll bring her back for visits, fair?” the queen asked, patting the beast on the nose, and it made another, apparently approving rumble, then snorted at Coran before unfurling its massive wings once more.

“You lot are going to be the death of me,” Coran muttered for what must have been the thousandth time since he’d taken the job at the palace, barely audible over the gales created by the creature’s takeoff.

Allura just giggled as she leaned out of her mother’s arms to hug him around the neck.


End file.
